Eyebrows!

Eyebrows-- did you raise them when you read the title of this blog post, wondering what I could possible have to say about eyebrows?  Or did they furrow, perhaps? Or maybe you just chuckled, probably inwardly, and let your eyeballs express your emotion for you by letting them roll.  Yes: eyebrows.  They are important.

Eyes may be the windows to the soul, but the eyebrows frame the eyes and are important, too, because:
- they work in concert with the eyes to express various emotions
- they help stop sweat from rolling directly down the forehead and into the eyeballs (usually)
- they are defining feature in the landscape of a face.  Groucho Marx and Brooke Shields are just two people (the first names I could instantly draw from memory) who are known in part for their distinct brows.  In the early days of the Obama administration, FLOTUS Michelle Obama was perceived has having "angry-looking eyebrows" for the way they were (and are?) very arched; I think that since then her eyebrows are not as arched or curved or sloping ( I can't figure out the most apt adjective so just choose one of those and pretend I got it right in one go).

Going back to the first listed point: considered the plasticine character Gromit, of the many "Wallace and Gromit" films, short and feature-length.  He doesn't speak at all but conveys exactly how he feels through the use of his motions, especially with his brow (singular).  Just look here:



Fantastic, yeah?  The Power of the Brow!  Often you hear or read about people raving about a celebrity's gorgeous eyes or full lips or curvaceous body but less often is there admiration given to eyebrows.  I don't regularly wear make-up but recently I've been filling in my eyebrows before going out.  Technically that counts as make-up, doesn't it... but it doesn't look like I'm wearing anything on my face (apart from my glasses, of course).  My eyebrow hairs are dark but they are sparse, so I draw short strokes wherever there are balder patches; to me the end result is noticeable and improves the balance of my face, but I wonder how much a difference it seems to other people.  It's a subtle effect, but I like the way it looks when I take the time to do it and do it properly.  I can't be bothered to alter any other facial feature on a daily basis but I do feel like it's worth giving my eyebrows some special attention, important as they are.

My Walden

For my seventh grade English class my peers and I were asked to find a quiet place outdoors and record our observations monthly in a nature journal, à la Henry David Thoreau.  There is a vast expanse of trees in my backyard, so I chose to do my writing from my porch.  Fast forward a few years to when I went out with my best friend to walk her dog.  She showed me her Walden spot, and since then I've sort of adopted it as my own reflection place.

Let's pretend that this post has some cohesion

It'd be fun to have a motorbike.  Or a Vespa!  But not practical.  If I had one I would've driven it today; instead I biked the mile or so as the sun was going down.  It's the first time I've gone biking all year and it was fan-tastic.  I love walking and taking time to take in my surroundings but biking is faster and a bit more fun.  I'm a little tired because I had to use different leg muscles in different days, but I'm inspired to bike more now that the weather is nicer and the snow and ice has melted.

There was a good amount of other people on the bike path when I was on it.  That's another fun thing about biking: people-watching.  Watching runners, packs of high school cross country teams, moms with babies in strollers, other bikers...okay, it's not the typical kind of people-watching because I'm moving on a bike and the amount of time spent watching one person or group is dictated both by my speed and his/hers/theirs.  And I can barely eavesdrop on people's conversations. But I still find it entertaining nonetheless. 

Every so often when I go on the bike path I come across a pair of men on rollerskates with their dogs-- sort of medium-sized dogs, I don't know what breed.  I'm always struck by how cool these men look.  They're not young yuppies, they've got to be in their sixties, with white hair and wrinkles and gruff yet warm voices.  They wear all the protective gear-- wrist guards, elbow pads, knee pads-- yet they don't wear helmets, which kind of bugs me.  But they still look really cool.  They're proficient rollerbladers, able to stop and go with ease.  Maybe one day I'll stop and talk to them.

Of dogs and food

I was walking down the bike path yesterday to go into town. I passed by a golden retriever and his owner. I know it was a male because the man said "C'mon boy" as the dog paused to watch me walk by. The dog gazed at me plaintiffly, hungrily, and I became conscious of the way I smell. I didn't put deodorant on as I got dressed, and I had just eaten macaroni and cheese for lunch; I probably reeked of butter and Kraft "cheese" (it was more orange than yellow and had a abandoned-blob-of-Play-Doh consistency).

I felt like I got a glimpse of my imaginary/parallel future, wherein I live in a tiny apartment by myself and, following a bout of passion for cooking new and pungent dish, I get thoroughly sniffed by the dogs that pass by, who cannot help themselves to the powerful olfactory feast I eek out my every pore.